


A Valentine

by gwyllion



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot from the 1692 universe, this was written for the February Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Valentine

Ennis grunted at his team as they hauled the last of the logs into place. The scrape of bark against smooth wood and the huffs of the straining horses echoed through the quiet forest.

“Whoa!” Ennis called, when the final log came to a halt in the mill yard. The pair of equines blew a steady stream of misty breath from their nostrils.

Ennis wiped a grimy sleeve across his brow. He had wanted to get a good stack of timber ready for the sawmill before night fell. The tangle of long straight pines that awaited his attention marked his accomplishment like a mass of intertwined twigs proved a mother bird’s prowess at building her nest. The sun was dipping low in the sky and soon it would be time to head back to the cabin, alone.

With Jack away, the responsibility of keeping the mill productive weighed fully upon Ennis’s shoulders. It would be a shame for the mill to stand quiet for a day.

Although he knew he’d miss Jack terribly, Ennis had offered to stay behind, for this very reason. The mill’s productivity was important to their prosperity. He unhitched the horses and hoped that Jack would reach the comfort of a warm bed before nightfall.

Ennis led the horses to the barn, first stopping to let them drink their fill from the river. It would be three days before Jack was expected to return to the cabin in the woods that they called home. Ennis curried the horses and let them cool down, his thoughts on how Jack always helped him with these daily tasks.

Ennis closed the barn door and shook his head. He didn’t know how he had gotten along without Jack, before that fateful day when he was accused of witchcraft and awaited certain death in the stocks.

Jack, the handsome blue-eyed drifter, proved to be Ennis’s savior, although he needed some rescuing of his own. Ennis smiled at the memory of how unlikely it was that the two of them would build a future together. Soon, their fifth winter would be finished, and their lives couldn’t be more fulfilling.

Tonight, he’d be lonely. Times of separation like these made Ennis miss Jack’s constant presence, his hardworking hands, his warm smile and quick wit, his strength at maneuvering logs to the blade. He was as much a companion, as a partner to share the workload of running the mill.

Jack would be back before the end of the week, but worry over what could happen to him while they were separated sometimes took hold of Ennis. He sighed and bolstered himself with the knowledge that Jack was a convincing speaker who could weave his way around conversations with most men. Besides, he had Kagelolit with him, who was every bit his equal in negotiations with colonists and Indians alike.

Ennis kicked the rock steps that led to the cabin porch. It would be foolish to track the snow from his boots indoors where it would puddle on the cabin floor, eventually rotting the wood. Although there was plenty of lumber on hand, with the forest of pine and birch at their doorstep, replacing a cabin floorboard was a chore that would take time from their daily tasks of operating the mill and surviving off the wild lands at the base of the White Hills.

Ennis climbed the steps to the cabin porch and tugged on the latchstring with a mitted hand. He was greeted by the gust of warmth from the fire and the smell of the stew he had set on the hearth, the aroma bubbling through the wintry air.

He left his boots by the door and stripped off his overshirt, hanging his wet things to dry.

Combing his fingers through his scraggly beard, Ennis thumbed through a collection of peeled birch bark, looking for a scrap on which to compose a list of things to tell Jack when he returned.

He had felled a dozen pines since he had seen Jack and Kagelolit off this morning at dawn, and he hoped he’d be able to fell another dozen tomorrow…

He saw a coyote north the Bearcamp River this afternoon and he wondered if it was the same one Jack had told him about last week…

He missed Jack while he was away… and he wondered if Jack missed him too...

When he found a piece of white birch that was a suitable size, he filled his bowl with stew and set it on the table by his quill. He dipped his spoon into the bowl and blew on it before taking a sip of the broth, thickened with carrots and potatoes that he and Kagelolit had harvested in the fall, storing them in a makeshift root cellar beneath the cabin’s floor.

The last vestige of sun faded below the horizon as Ennis ate. He lit the lantern at his table and continued composing his list.

He jotted the number of trees felled and made a note about the coyote. He laughed at himself as he dipped the quill into the ink… Jack would think Ennis was silly for missing him so much. After all, they were two grown men, accustomed to making their way in the world alone. The quill scratched black ink across the words, the tip catching on the bark’s striations.

Ennis pushed his writing aside when he heard the stomping of feet across the porch. He wiped his hands across his trousers, the ink from his fingers mixing with the hardened tree sap and smears that had already sullied the well-worn fabric.

The door to the cabin flew open and Ennis grinned.

“Ennis, guess what?” Vera tromped across the floor, her leather moccasins stamping the wet imprints of her feet upon the bare wood.

“What?” Ennis asked, stooping over to gather the flailing child into his arms.

“Papa and Jack will be home in three days,” Vera said, her pigtails swinging like the guy ropes of a sailing ship.

“Yes, I know,” Ennis said as her mother stepped inside the cabin.

“Vera!” she said. “I told you that you must knock on the door first.”

“I’m sorry,” Vera said, clinging to Ennis.

“Sorry, Ennis,” Owassa said. “We came by to bring you some bread. I saw your lantern was lit.”

“Thank you,” Ennis said taking the loaf of fry bread from her. He hoisted Vera into the air and set her on the bench beside his table. “I was finishing my dinner. Can I offer you some stew? There’s plenty, since I’m alone tonight.”

“No thank you, Ennis. We’ve already eaten,” Owassa said, swinging a leg over the bench to sit beside her daughter.

“I write?” Vera asked, her tiny fingers grasping at the quill.

“Can she, Ennis?” Owassa asked, glancing at the table for another paper scrap.

“Of course,” Ennis said, finding a blank piece of bark large enough for the child to practice her letters.

“How did you fare without Jack today?” Owassa asked, her fingers steadying the inkwell as Vera dipped the end of the quill inside.

“How did you fare without Kagelolit?” Ennis asked.

Owassa’s eyes gleamed at him. “Much the same as you, probably,” she replied with a smile.

Ennis laughed. “I never think that I’ll miss him as much as I do, but it’s always unbearable. My mind races, wondering if he’s safe… if _they_ are safe.”

“I think you worry too much,” Owassa said, patting Ennis’s arm. “The weather has been fine all day. I’m certain they made it to Pequawket by now.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Ennis said, turning his attention to Vera.

“That looks very nice, Vera. What are you writing?” Ennis asked as Vera loaded her quill again.

“What is it called again, Mama?” Vera asked.

“Valentine?” asked Owassa.

“Yes, a Valentine,” Vera said, before returning to her scribbled letters.

“A Valentine?” Ennis asked. “How do you know about Valentines?”

“You forget, my husband was raised by a white woman,” Owassa said. “We try to observe the traditions of her people when it’s possible.”

“I didn’t realize that you were teaching Vera so much about her ancestors. I should have known,” Ennis said.

“Done!” Vera proclaimed, holding the birch in the air for Ennis to admire.

“That’s lovely, Vera,” said Ennis.

“For you,” Vera said, pressing the Valentine into Ennis’s hand.

“Why, thank you, Vera. I’ll cherish it always,” Ennis said. “I’ll show it to Jack and Papa when they return.”

“Three more days, Mama?” Vera asked.

“Only two days, since today has ended,” Owassa smiled.

“Two days!” Vera exclaimed.

“I should be getting her to bed, Ennis,” Owassa said, rising from the bench.

“Goodnight,” Vera said, taking her mother’s hand.

“Goodnight, and thank you for the bread,” Ennis walked the pair to the door. Between the distant trees, he could see the glow of their campfire burning outside their wigwam.

The bright moon would help to guide their steps home.

Ennis closed the door and cleared his table. He hoped the moon would guide Jack and Kagelolit to the village where they would spend the day trading with settlers and other members of Kagelolit’s tribe of fellow Abenaki.

After stoking the fire and washing up, Ennis crawled into bed alone. It took a long while before the sheets grew warm without Jack’s additional body heat, another loss to remind Ennis of how much he missed Jack.

Ennis thought of Vera’s sweet Valentine. Maybe tomorrow, he’d write a Valentine letter to Jack. The idea brought a smile to Ennis’s face. He sighed and stretched his arms, folding them beneath his pillow. He closed his eyes ready to drift off to sleep when his fingertips grazed the tiny rolled length of birch.

“What?” he mumbled, drawing the paper from its place under the pillow where Jack had stashed it away. He carefully unrolled the bark and tilted it so he could read the words in the moonlight.

_My dearest Ennis,_

_Never doubt that I miss you._

_Keep the bed warm for me._

_Yours,_

_Jack_

Ennis placed the letter on his bed table and fell asleep, dreaming of Jack’s return. 


End file.
